Mandamus
by Frost Deejn
Summary: Post 4x6. Sometimes you have to do what you think is right even if no one else agrees with you, you don't know how, and it requires breaking the rules.


Disclaimer:_ Fringe_ is not mine.

**Mandamus**

She had long ago learned that there was a right and wrong that transcended considerations of legal and illegal, that when doing what you thought was right meant breaking the rules, breaking the rules became a moral imperative.

And this was one of those times.

Astrid was usually more than happy to let Broyles, Olivia, and even Walter make the big decisions, but this was wrong, and she was going to do what she could to stop it.

Even if it meant lying to get a meeting.

"I can't help but wonder what you want this for," The woman smiled slightly, holding the stack of papers linked together with a magnetic clasp instead of staple. There was a glint of deviousness in her eye, as though she were already planning ways she could use this favor for potential blackmail or some other future advantage.

Astrid couldn't believe she'd ever mistaken this woman for Olivia Dunham. They were nothing alike.

"Like I told you, it's a theoretical exercise."

"No, that's what you told me to tell _her_. Not that she bought it. She's smart enough to figure out that there's some reason when her colleague asks her to figure out the actuarials on traveling between dimensions she doesn't even know really exist. She told me there's less than a point-five percent chance that I was just asking her out of curiosity. You're lucky she accepts that she works on things that are above her clearance level."

"Can I see the results?" Astrid asked impatiently. She'd told Broyles she needed to talk to the Other Olivia because of a question Walter had about the other side. If Broyles talked to Walter about it, Astrid would pretend—and Walter would hopefully assume—that it was one of his ideas that he proposed and then promptly forgot about. But the plan did depend on the Other Olivia not getting any ideas, and Astrid wanted to get those papers and go back to her own side as quickly as possible.

"You're not like the Astrid Farnsworth I know at all," Olivia said. "You should meet her some time. I think she'd like you. At least you'd fascinate her."

Although Astrid was curious about how the version of herself in the other dimension had ended up becoming a statistics super genius, she had a feeling meeting her opposite number would be a little bit too much weirdness for her to take.

She'd learned about the other Astrid's particular skill set from reports she'd read about the other side. The idea to have her analyze the safety of Peter hurling through dimensions to get to his own timeline had occurred to her one night when she couldn't sleep from worrying about their strange guest.

"Too bad this is all so classified," Olivia added facetiously.

"Can I have it please?"

She smiled smugly and handed her the stack of papers. "You owe me."

"I know," Astrid said grimly.

She read over the pages and pages of statistics without understanding much of it, other than the chillingly matter-of-fact conclusion section, then she went to the lab to find Walter.

It was nearly midnight, but she wasn't surprised that Walter was still awake, eating what looked like a bowl of milky peanut butter with partially melted chocolate chips stirred in.

"Astrid," he said pleasantly. "Is it morning already?"

"No, Walter." She knelt down on the floor in front of him. "I need to talk to you."

He frowned at her uncharacteristic grimness. "My dear, what's wrong?"

She handed him a copy of the pages. "That man, Peter Bishop, the one who's trying to get back to his own timeline. He's not going to make it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know how many dimensions there theoretically could be? Even if his still exists, which from what I can figure out from these calculations isn't likely, the chances of something going wrong are so high...he's got a better chance of winning the lottery. He might end up in another universe, the wrong universe, but it's more likely he'll end up dead."

Walter looked over the equations on the page. "Where did this come from?"

"It doesn't matter. Don't let him do it. If you ask him to stay, he'll stay."

"But he doesn't belong here," Walter replied, sounding lucid and slightly hostile. "He should go back where he came from."

"According to this, there's almost a 20 percent chance...factoring in an e, which I don't quite get...that he did come from here. And if he didn't, he can't go back where he came from. He'll die."

"That's a risk he's willing to take."

"Walter!" Astrid almost yelled. "I know you feel guilty about your son dying, but that wasn't your fault. You tried to save him, and just because you couldn't doesn't mean you're responsible for his death. You're not. You lost your son twice, but if you let him go through with this you'll lose him a third time. And this time it _will _be your fault. Either figure out a way to send him back to his own universe safely, or get him to stay here. He's your _son_, Walter. Whatever you think you deserve, you owe him that much. The way you're treating him is hurting him, you have to see that. Even if you think you don't deserve a son, what did he do to deserve being rejected by his own father? Don't let him die because you feel like you need to punish yourself. Instead of beating yourself up for failing in the past, why don't you try making up for it instead?" She was ranting, she realized, but Walter's behavior had been bothering her since Peter's arrival.

Walter's hand tightened around the pages. He was shaking slightly. "I'll look it over."

"Thank you," Astrid said with relief, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.

She had another copy of the other Astrid Farnsworth's equations.

Peter wondered who could be knocking on his door at this time of night.

He was not expecting it to be Astrid.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Someone needs to talk some sense into you." She pushed past him into his front room.

He looked after her for a moment, eyebrows creased in confusion, before closing the door and following her. "What do you mean?"

"Your plan to jump back to your timeline: it's not just crazy, it's suicidal. It won't work."

He stared at her for a moment, wondering why Astrid had barged into his house at 1 a.m. to tell him that. "I don't have a choice."

"Of course you do. Stay here."

"I can't. I have to get back to where I belong. I have to try."

"Look." She handed him the copy of the paper calculating his chances of survival if he went through with his plan. "You've got about a seventy percent chance of dying if you try, and a zero-plus chance of getting back to your own timeline."

"Zero-plus means there's still a chance."

It angered her how chipper he sounded when he said that. "Peter, I know you're a smart guy. How can you be dumb enough to throw your life away like that?"

"It's not like I've got much of a life to look forward to if I don't. My friends don't remember me, my own father pretends I don't exist."

"It's better than no life at all," she argued.

"Try it sometime."

"Read that," she said, nodding to the pages in his hand. "I'm sure you'll understand it better than I do."

He glanced at the first page, then flipped to the second. "Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter, except I'll be fired and possibly prosecuted if Broyles finds out about it."

He read through the statistics for a couple of minutes, frowning. Then stopped at a graph on page 6, studied it for almost a minute, then shook his head violently. "No! This analysis is wrong! My timeline still exists somewhere. It has to."

"And what if it does? What if you're right, and you die trying to get back to it? Do you really think your Olivia would want you to do that? To take such a stupid risk trying to get back to her?"

He looked at her and didn't answer.

"And if you're right, if your Walter is anything like my Walter, he'll find out what happened to you. He'd be obsessed with it, and do everything he could to figure out how to get you back. What if he succeeds in finding a way to get to you just to find out you'd gotten yourself killed trying to get back there?"

"Why is this so important to you? Why did you do this," he flipped the pages of the report, "to try to stop me from trying to get back to where I belong?"

"Four reasons."

He tilted his head. "I'm sorry, do you mean you're doing it for some unspecified number of reasons, or that you've actually counted four specific reasons for wanting me to stay here?"

She held up one finger. "One, since you've been here, you've helped us save who knows how many lives. Your expertise and the things you know from the investigations you've done on your side are invaluable to us, way more valuable to us than to them. If we've got any chance of figuring out how to fix our universes, the chances are a lot better if we've got you, if we've got your experience to add to ours. Two," she held up a second finger, "I've worked with Walter Bishop for three years. He's a good man, but he's a miserably unhappy man. He deserves to stop beating himself up for things that aren't his fault. He deserves to have a son. The people from your timeline have already had a chance to have you in their lives. In my opinion _our _Walter needs you now." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Three, Olivia's my friend, and she cares about you. You matter to her. I could see it on her face when she watched you walk through that time-bubble thing. She was worried sick. She'd be devastated if something happens to you."

Peter shook off the surge of hope at the thought of Olivia caring about him. "And what's the fourth reason?" he asked.

"That I believe if you try to go back you'll die, and keeping you from getting yourself killed is the right thing to do."

They looked at each other for long moments.

"Think about it," Astrid implored. "Read over that analysis. If you're going to risk your life to get back to a universe you can't be sure even exists, you should at least know exactly how big a risk it is. And in my opinion, you could belong here, too." She looked at him challengingly for another silent moment, then said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Peter," and turned to leave.

Peter sat down and stared at the stack of pages in his hands. It surprised him how much thought, effort, and risk Astrid had gone to in order to talk him out of leaving. He doubted anything he read in it would dissuade him from going through with his attempt to jump back to his timeline, but it was nice to have someone who actually wanted him to stay, actually cared if he lived or died. It felt a little like belonging.


End file.
